Odyssey of the Last Calderian , livre ebook

Odyssey of the Last Calderian
George John Mellar
Austin Macauley Publishers
2019-04-30
Odyssey of the Last Calderian About the Author About the Book Dedication Copyright Information Acknowledgement Prologue Chapter 1 Burial Chapter 2 Revelations Chapter 3 Southward Chapter 4 Stranger Chapter 5 Fallen Chapter 6 ‘The Travelers Rest’ Chapter 7 Tobias Baretto Chapter 8 The Serpent’s Teeth Chapter 9 The Rebel Chapter 10 Hymeer Chapter 11 The Shrine Chapter 12 A Hope
About the Author
George Mellar, the only son of an Austrian mother and Hungarian father, lived his formative years with his five sisters in Derbyshire, England. His love of history, particularly that of ancient civilizations, was cultivated through his studies at South East Derbyshire College, which, in turn, motivated him to visit ancient sites all over Europe, the Middle East, and Southeast Asia.
Before his retirement, he had worked for over twenty years as a correctional officer with the British civil service. He now lives in Thailand with his wife, Au, where he is devoting most of his time to writing.
About the Book
"I fear for mankind. This is not who we are. Something is wrong, something has changed.
“This is not the way… it is not the answer… they can’t do it, they mustn’t!”
The insular and isolated world of Braak has come to an end. The tragedy and mystery that triggers his journey for vengeance will be completely overshadowed by the catastrophic event that he will witness at the beginning of his quest for justice.
His brief encounter with a stranger will be the catalyst that propels him on an odyssey that will take him across the known world, following a trail left by an ancient, clandestine ‘order’ known only as the Caretakers. The chase will bring him ever closer to the reason why man’s future and destiny is now in peril, and why the answers and means to end this intended devastation can only be found in the arid and barren lands of Melankurion.
Dedication
A fundamental principle of humanity is that we must allow others to exist and pursue who they are as they desire, as we would want others to allow us to exist and pursue who we are. I therefore dedicate this book to
‘The Humanity Party’.
Copyright Information
Copyright © George John Mellar (2019)
The right of George John Mellar to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs, and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
A CIP catalog record for this title is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781528916752 (Paperback)
ISBN 9781528916769 (Kindle e-book)
ISBN 9781528961660 (ePub e-book)
www.austinmacauley.com
First Published (2019)
Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd
25 Canada Square
Canary Wharf
London
E14 5LQ
Acknowledgement
For the patience and understanding of my wife, Au; and for the encouragement, wisdom, and advice of my friends: Steve Stevens, Mike Power, Julian Strathearn, Runar Fragell, and Mike Chapman.
Prologue
“There will not be an eighth; this seventh will be the last. No more new beginnings, for a tomorrow learn from the past.”
To unfold this story of tragedy, revenge, devastation, and conspiracy, a glimmer of hope is needed to counterbalance what seems to be a wretched situation for a young world which looks to the future with optimism and expectation.
The domain that is known to man is one of prefectures, walled cities, towns, and villages that spread outward to the boundaries of uncharted regions and desolate landscapes. Apart from the obvious colloquial distinctions, the language and written word are fused and blended into a general understanding separated only by indigenous customs and traditions.
The known world is a mishmash of medieval societies coexisting in regions ranging from extreme cold and rugged elevations, to horizontal plateaus of heat and arid desert; from resilient, enduring land-locked cultures, to great seafaring nations which inter-connect in trade and commerce. It is a young world; a world that was born out of migrations, migrations that originated in the south and slowly spread northwards, propagating the cooler regions with human inhabitants that settled and cultivated nature’s natural habitats.
The existing society is known to be only a few thousand years old, being as each of the capital cities were founded in relatively recent times; the oldest being ‘Kafrash’, the principle city of Melankurion, and the youngest being ‘Calderan’, the principle city of Eldermar. Each of the fourteen existing prefectures co-exist despite their differing customs, dress, architecture, laws, and systems of governance. Yet as time goes on and the prosperity of some evolve more rapidly than others, mistrust, suspicion, and resentment invariably increases. Divisions generated out of avarice and envy are beginning to spawn conflicts and hostility, resulting in regions of instability and volatility. The cohesive and congenial society that was, is beginning to slowly crumble, and though these conflicts are rare, the last several decades has seen an increase in aggressions between neighboring prefectures.
Humanity exist in a time of relative peace as the people place their trust in the few who oversee their ambitions and providence. However, trust placed in the hands of men who govern, administer, and direct the welfare of a people may after a time lead to complacency, contentment, and indulgences which overstep given obligations and may bring about a dark and foreboding retribution.
This story begins after a tragedy when one’s innermost emotions are left empty and void of reason. Where the one motivation, the one impetus that gives you purpose and resolve … is vengeance. The choices made by an embittered young man will take him on an odyssey of immense proportions, and bring him ever closer to the reasons why his family’s demise is interwoven in the possible ending of all that is established in the known world.
So what does it take to deviate off a path of revenge? What does it take to turn a man with such purpose and resolve to suppress a cause and convey him back to rationality? Where must he go to find a hope that is so badly needed; the hope that is so essential not only for his own needs and salvation, but for that of the known world too?
Mankind is being ‘played’ … a manipulation by clandestine forces that have been watching over man and his progress for millennia.
Two journeys must be taken for him to unravel the injustices that have and will confront him. The first will take him through the strange lands of the known world towards the far distant realm of Melankurion; whilst the other will take him on a journey of pain and tragedy leading to the depths of his innermost convictions.
But for now, in the formidable, isolated wilderness of the ‘Kodran Array’ and far from the company of men, communities or civilization stands a lonely figure whose despair and desolation runs deep into his soul.
So let us begin and tell the story of ‘Braak’, only son of Arristan and Freya of House Britwold, and let us unravel the conundrum that confounds and misleads us, yet whose answers have always been present and stare us in the face.
Chapter 1

Burial
The circle was now complete. The forty-sixth stone (one for each year) had been put in its place and the ring was now closed. Each stone that encompassed the raised earth represented one full year of life. The small mound in which he had buried his mother grazed the blanket of bronze leaves and bared the fresh soil like an abrasion on smooth skin. Braak stood at the foot of the mound and stared at the earth under which lay everything of worth. His hopes and dreams were now at an end. His face was wet with both tears and rain, diluted and meandering down his face dripping onto his fur collar where it would dissolve in-between the fine strands of fox hair. His fingers were interlocked with each other, just his thumbs were moving, rubbing in a small circular motion as though they were trying to wear each other down. No sound or words came from his mouth, no movement or motion from his body, just his eyes… vacant, unfocused, blurred, unconsciously blinking. The imperceptible tears were his only betrayal, tears which he could not control, tears of regret, of injustice, of unfairness. After all, who else would shed a tear? There was no one to save him.
Braak stood at the foot of the mound for three hours, quiet, expressionless and empty, staring at the brown earth that screened his mother from the damp air, alone and silent… but for the patter of water-drops as they broke against the carpet of undergrowth around the burial site. When his tears finally stopped, he raised his head and focused on the grey clouds in-between the canopy of high branches. The clouds were slowly buffeting each other and moving speedily across the sky as though they were running away from a calamity of immense foreboding. The rain was now starting to get heavier, each drop clear and cold, crashing down in dense uniformity, initiating a vacation of anything breathing that was out in the open. Yet in open irony Braak knew that it also gifted the earth with an elixir of life, presenting the terrain with a potion of re-growth.
Braak remembered his mother telling him in their first few days of exile when the rain made their journey north more difficult that:
“Rain was one of the greatest gifts the ‘First-Ones’ had given to man. Without it, all the world would be like the ‘Southlands’, a vast desert of nothing but dust and emptiness no plants, no trees, no fishes or animals, no peop